


Close the Gates of Hell (And I'll Drag You With Me)

by Dean_Winchester_Likes_Porn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crowley comes to fuck shit up because he can, F/M, First Time, Gates of Hell: Apocalypse, I highly doubt this would happen anyway, I screw around with the timespans and when Cas comes back, I take canon and mess with it and now this is the result, M/M, Nephilim, Realization of Love/Relationship, Season 8, Sexual Content Towards The End, headcanons, mentions of mpreg
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-04
Updated: 2012-12-11
Packaged: 2017-11-17 23:42:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/554503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dean_Winchester_Likes_Porn/pseuds/Dean_Winchester_Likes_Porn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas should have known better than to ever work with Crowley.</p><p>It's may have already costed him the trust of his friends, but it would end up costing him a hell of a lot more than just the Wincester's trust.</p><p>Like Mary, for example: but she isn't exactly willing to go. Not unless she can get something in return.</p><p>Maybe the safety of the Earth will do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Calm before the storm, much?

**Author's Note:**

> I probably haven't written a fanficton since the winter of '10, and that was in a fandom I'd rather not ever look back to. So, here we go Supernatural/Destiel fandom; I'm here to bring the absolutely insanity that is this plot idea, since it hasn't left me for the past few weeks because of the foreshadowing concerning being able to permanently close the Gates of Hell.

He was going to kill Kevin.

Well, actually, if he did that, there’d be no one (that they knew of) that had the ability to read the damned tablet.

So that was exactly why Dean was currently face-down on the motel bed, fuming over their nine thousandth predicament in life. Considering this was probably one of their more languid ones, there was nothing to really go by, other than tracking down all of Kevin’s fake I.D. cards and credit chits. Cas sat on the other side of the room, probably going over things Dean either didn’t understand, or didn’t care about. Purgatory had made a mess of them both, should the man be honest with himself. Under Sam’s referral, the three of them had taken a break from any form of hunting, to take time off for themselves. It took quite bit of convincing, some yelling, but eventually Dean agreed to it.

But honestly, Dean just wanted to be tracking Kevin down. Thus, he groaned in complete annoyance to himself.

Cas’ head perked in his general direction at the sound. “Dean?” he asked quietly, throwing a look of concern towards the Winchester.

Dean grumbled inaudibly, and sat up on the motel bed. “It’s nothing Cas.” And of course, the angel didn’t believe him on bit.

No one did these days, not really. You don’t spend a year in the land of all things evil and dead, and not come out just a tad fucked up in the head.

Sam tried to keep his attention focused on his laptop, finding that he should just allow the two of them to work through whatever it was that kept eating at the both of them. He sighed a little, resting his face within the palms of his hands. As much as he’d like to get the whole Kevin-crap over with, Sam also just wanted to go sleep for the next few days, possibly weeks. Anything at all to keep from seeing his brother and his friend like the way they were.

But Dean wouldn’t talk, and neither would Cas. What ever they saw and did in Purgatory remained completely between them. It’s not like he really deserved to know, Sam pretty much assumed. Having a brother pissed at you for not looking for him during the year that he was gone did that, and really Sam couldn’t put much blame on Dean; not unless he wanted to partially blame himself.

Cas apparently decided that sitting on the other side of the room wasn’t exactly a good idea, and plopped right down next to Dean on the motel bed. Sam raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. In a way, he had no right to. Dean merely rolled his eyes, and allowed the angel to settle next to him.

It was quiet for a bit, but usual for the three of them. At some point, Dean had closed his eyes, submitting to the lull of sleep. He was always tired, it seemed. Cas too, even with his Grace mojo still flowing through him. Cas shifted his body to rest next to Dean, and he nodded off as well.

Sam noticed the pair had broken off into unconsciousness, and he chuckled to himself. His brother was sitting up a 90 degree angle, back pressed to the headboard, with Cas’ sides pressed up against him. If he didn’t know that the two weren’t dead-ass tired, he’d say they look kinda…comfortable just staying in one another’s presence.

Then again, anything was possible. That was a lesson Sam had absolutely learned in his lifetime; you don’t get to meet several Pagan gods, see a battle between angels, and the usual ghosts and witches without having an unusual life.

And boy, was his life unusual.

Setting aside his laptop, Sam turned around in the spiny chair provided by the motel’s services. He sighed, locking his hands over the back of his head. It was quiet, almost dark outside, and only 8 P.M. Dean and Cas were on the bed parallel to his own, snoring softly next to each other. It was rare for any of them to experience moments like those, with the amount of hellish occurrences that’d been happening for nearly their entire lives. Even with the few years he’d gotten to have as a normal human being, this bliss seemed more fulfilling to him.

Sam kept these moments locked away to himself. He needed them, more than he could ever really realize. Especially with the uprising of Crowley as of late; none of them really knew what the demon wanted, but it certainly couldn’t be good. Nothing he ever did was good. A demon was a demon, and held all the darkness in their hearts (did demons even have hearts?) that came with the title. Ruby was just the same as the rest, and Meg too if they gave her enough time.

His head jerked when a ring resonated from his cellphone. Fumbling to get the device, Sam flipped it open hastily. “This is Sam.” he said coolly, eyes flicking in the direction of his brother and Cas. The voice at the other end replied.

It’s Garth.

“Garth?” he wondered briefly why he’d even call in the first place, much less how he got Sam’s new number. “What’s up?”

The other hunter is silent for a moment. Sam shifted the phone so it rested more comfortably against his ear. He waited for the other’s answer.

“I found a job a-and I need help with this one, Sam.” his voice sounded on-edge, moreso than usual.

“Sure, we’ll help.” So much for a rest. “What’s the problem?”

“I think it’s angels.”

Dead silence. Sam breath locked in his throat.

“Angels? Are you _serious_?” He tried to keep his voice down, not wanting to alarm the other two in the room. Cas would flip his angelic shit if he heard wind of this, and Dean would too.

“Yes, angels. I haven’t seen any, but I keep seeing all those weird sigils you and Dean showed me awhile back.”

“The angel banishing sigils?” Sam asked, running his fingers through the thick hair on his head.

“Yeah, and what’s weird is that it’s not of made of blood.” Garth paused briefly. Sam heard him sigh. “Not really.”

“Then how? What’s different?”

“The blood is blue.”

Sam nearly dropped the phone on the floor. Blue blood could really only mean one thing, and the idea was impossible. There was no way, because they shouldn't even exist.

“Are you…are you sure?”

Garth confirmed it again, and Sam felt like either throwing up or screaming.

That blood could only belong to one creature.

_Nephilim._

Sam told Garth he’d alert Cas and Dean, and asked for the location.

“I’m in Bradenton, Florida. Down by the Anna Marie Islands.” Sam wrote the information down, telling Garth that they’d be there as fast as they could. He canceled the call, sighing harshly.

Dean and Cas, especially Cas, wasn’t going to like this. He turned to face the sleeping bodies of his brother and friend, mentally kicking himself. As much as he didn’t want to wake the pair up, Sam knew he needed to. If Nephillim were walking the Earth, it meant some angel somewhere got the bright idea to breed with a freaking human. And that was definitely not a good thing.

Getting up from the chair, Sam walked over to nudge at his brother. “Dean, Dean get up.” One shake, then two. Dean stirred briefly.

“What, Sam?” His voice came out all gravely, obviously still sleep-coated.

“We’ve got a job.”

Dean got up faster than Sam had ever seen the man move, and that’d been a lot over the years.

Yeah, Dean was not going to like this.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garth may or may not be an idiot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can I just mention that I have the best fucking [beta](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Liquid_Thought/) in the whole world?
> 
> Seriously Cami, thanks for putting up with my bullshit and helping me fix my English.
> 
> Now, on with the story.

Cas was pacing up and down the length of the motel room, desperately trying to figure out just how the hell all of this was even fucking _possible_. He stopped abruptly, whipping his body in the direction of Sam, and fixed his gaze upon him.

“Are you _positive_ Garth said it was nephillim?”

Sam nodded his head lightly and curled his lips in a thoughtful frown. “He’s not 100% positive, but if the sigils are being drawn with that kind blood, there really isn’t much room to argue.” He placed his laptop in its carrier case, sighing.

“Yeah well we still need to check it out anyway.” Dean interjected, rubbing the back of his neck. “If it really is nephillim that are running around the damn place, wouldn’t that mean there’s some angel activity too?”

The angel finally stopped pacing once he heard Dean speak, choosing to sit down on one of the beds. It was ruffed up from being slept in, and he smoothed down one of the creases absentmindly.

“More than likely Dean, nephillim have developed the habit of drawing sigils when they’re being pursued by Heaven.  I can distinctly remember one nephillim in particular by the name of Astrid, who went on the run for nearly 5 years, only managing to dodge the garrison by drawing sigils constantly.”

 “How'd you guys finally manage to capture her?”

Cas shrugged, playing with a strand of linen poking out from the bed covers. “We didn’t.  Astrid eventually managed to drive a knife through her heart.  Four soldiers had her cornered, and she took her life.”

“That’s…brutal.” An audible sigh sounded right beside the hunter, making him shut his mouth.

“Whatever the case is, we need to go check it out. Garth needs our help, and we’re not in any position to not say yes.” This of course infuriated Dean, since the whole ‘hey we have a prophet on the loose’ still hung over their heads, and there they were about to jump the gun on some far-fetched nephillim bullshit.

He said nothing however, choosing instead to grumble out a sound of displeasure. Sam shook his head, knowing what the sound meant. He knew what Dean really wanted to go do, but they honestly had no leads with which to do so. Kevin Tran covered up his marks well and at least this would get them back in the swing of hunting again.

Regardless, they had this now to focus on, and he’d be damned all over again if they didn’t respond to a call of help, especially from a friend.

 

_And especially when almost all of their friends were dead._

 

“I’ll check us out of the motel.” He pointed towards the angel, turning an eyebrow up in a questioning gesture.  “Cas, can you and Dean get out stuff packed and loaded so we can leave?” The seraph nodded his head in agreement, immediately walking over to the dresser to retrieve their items. Dean threw his a brother a look of _really?_ , and Sam just laughed softly.

 

They’d be on the road soon enough.

 

The drive down to Florida was actually relatively quiet. Sam had called the right to drive the Impala, and Dean honestly couldn’t find it in himself to argue. He’d done enough worrying about his life during the year in Purgatory; a few hundred miles not driving wouldn’t kill him.

 

No, but everything in Purgatory would, and would still do.

 

Cas remained quiet, content to sit in the backseat. Maybe Sam hadn’t noticed yet, but Cas was appearing to demonstrate more human-like qualities, such as the desire to rest. (Although, the guy was smart so Dean doubted he didn’t at least suspect.) After an hour or so driving, the angel was passed out in the backseat, snoring a bit. Dean was more than happy to sit there and just not talk to anyone, but Sam’s music choice was getting on his nerves. Perks of being the driver allowed you to dictate what the selection of music was, and after going a year without his AC/DC and Led Zeppelin made him want to rip out the CD currently playing. Actually, he wanted to rip out the entire dashboard. Since when did Sam put an extension in for a CD player anyway?

Probably during Purgatory, but that’s beside the point.

500 miles in and with less than 140 to go, Sam finally broke the heavy silence that had descended upon them when they stepped into the vehicle.

 

“So…are we just not going to talk about it, or…?”

 

“Talk about what, Sam?” Dean gruffed, not looking at his brother. Sam’d see too much if he looked.

 

 “Where you and Cas went, Dean: that’s what I’m talking about.” Sam’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. They were out in some wooded area, just along the border of Florida.

 

“Who says there’s anything to talk about?” Dean still wasn't facing his brother, more or less keeping his gaze locked with some random grease stain that had made its home on the surface of the dashboard.

 

“I just want to help, Dean.”

 

“Just shut up.” He quipped, his voice raising an octave or two.

 

Sam did shut up after that, even though he kept on looking for Dean’s expression in the passenger window in sneaky glances. Why wouldn’t Dean talk, or Cas for that matter? Sam would have to keep these thoughts to himself, since no one else seemed like spilling anything.

But, unexpectedly, no words were exchanged for the rest of the drive.

 

Garth wasn’t there at the rendezvous point once they three of them finally managed to reach it. It was a relatively small warehouse, most likely once used to store mountains of boxes. Probably by private owners, when it had been in use; whenever that was.

Both Sam and Dean phoned him multiple times, but still the damn hunter didn’t answer.

 

“Maybe he’s just late?” Dean said, fumbling with his cell phone to place it back in his pocket. “It’s Garth. He does shit like that.”

 

Sam shook his head. “He wouldn’t for this. Garth was pretty frantic when he called me.”

 

“Perhaps we're too late.” Cas mumbled, walking around the area of the warehouse they were in. There were sigils there, and they were indeed the colour of the dark blue generally held by nephillim. Cas traced one with the tip of fingers, feeling the blood underneath it sizzle beneath his touch.

 

It was fresh, and still wet. Hadn’t had enough time to congeal and firm.

 

“Serves him right, then. The idiot shouldn’t have gone off by his damned self.  Just gonna get himself killed.” Dean said, not bothering to match eyes with Sam.

 

“Garth isn’t that stupid. Besides, we’d see signs of a struggle here.” Sam gestured towards the center of the room. “Other than the place looking run down, there isn’t any.”

 

“Not unless he didn’t make it here in the first place,“ Cas provided, tracing another sigil. That one sizzled too, but with a different kind of feel. It was like there were more than just one, perhaps even of opposite genders.

 

Odd, nephillim usually traveled alone. Unless…

 

“We are not alone here.” He suddenly said, drawing out his angel sword. The Winchesters responded immediately, drawing out their shotguns. Their ears strain to hear something, anything that would alarm them to another’s presence. “Cas, you sure?” Dean glanced to Cas, giving him a look of worry. Sam did the same.

 

A few moments passed, and there was still no sign of anyone else in the warehouse besides them.

 

“Gee _thanks_ , Cas. Nice fucking scare you gave us.” The angel still remained unconvinced, but he tucked his sword back into a large pocket in his trench coat.

Both hunters uncocked their shotguns, looking around the warehouse for extra measure.

With no sign of movement, the three of them prepared to exit out of the building in search of Garth. They made it all of five feet, before a rather loud _swoosh_ sounded in the air, and then Dean was struck with roughly 130 pounds of dead weight on his body. He was knocked face-down on the floor, momentarily knocked out. The being that fell on him quickly got up, skitting about 10 feet back. Cas caught a glimpse of her; it appeared to be female, locks of dark brown hair adorning her head. Normally, he’d have come to the conclusion that some unlucky (and stupid) teenager decided to climb on the ceiling before plummeting to the ground below. But Cas couldn’t call this girl normal, since she had, s-she had…

 

She had _wings_ sprouting out of her back. They carried flashes of black, and flecks of white. That was all Cas really managed to see, before she was kicking her feet up and _fucking flying in the air_.

 

Dean regained consciousness quickly, managing to only see her back before getting up to charge after the girl. “Hold up!” he yelled out, but she was already gone, flapping her wings far away towards the horizon.

Cas stared in her direction, a look of pure and utter shock on his face. Dean’s eyes fixed on his face. “W-was that…?”

 

“Yes, Dean. That was a nephillim.” The angel said flatly, still in total disbelief over what he just saw.

 

Dean groaned loudly enough that it would end up hurting Sam’s ear. “Nephillim? God damned…” Dean limped to the right. “You good, Sammy?”

 

And that was when they noticed Sam wasn’t there. His shotgun had fallen to the ground at some point, but neither Cas nor Dean could remember hearing the clang that would signify its drop.

 

“Cas…” Dean made a pained sound, and whipped his head to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating his brother being _gone_. The angel shrugged lightly, but another look of panic quickly overtook his features.

“Sam? Sam!” the two called out in unison, but the younger Winchester was missing. Just like Garth. _For fuck’s sake._

Deans ran frantically around the warehouse, screaming for his brother. “Sam dammit, where are you?!” Still, there was no reply and Dean felt like punching the sigils on the walls. Cas came up behind him, and placed a hand on his shoulder. “We need to find the nephillim girl, Dean. She knows; I can feel it.”

 

“How?” Dean said weakly, already feeling the prickling of tears coming to his eyes. Now he really wanted to punch something, preferably the little nephillim’s face. All it meant is that he failed Sam, again.

He failed his brother by being an idiot, just like always.

“I just do.”

Dean turned around, lips coming apart in the form of a snarl. “Then we find the bitch, and we find Sam.”

“We will.”

Cas couldn’t have said it any better.


End file.
